CHILDREN OF THE ICE
One of those days when coincidences gather
like the gulls on this rarely frozen pond,
sliding and screeching in a grey and white cloud
while I am passing by thinking
of how at school they made us swim
while hail was falling, exploding all around us,
and sheet lightning flashed above;
cruel gods taking a photo
as we struggled on among the pounding.
Nobody forced the gulls to fly here,
but they keep returning to where food once was.
Just as we cannot escape what hurt us
no matter how far away we swim.
RESCUE
Perhaps confused by the darkness
and the dust of lost afternoons,
a bat flew into our living room.
I opened the windows and doors wider
and watched as it sought the exit,
tapping against the curtains
of a place I had always wanted to escape.
I began to hear, then understand, the bat’s squeaks,
the pattern of echoes growing clearer
until I found the way out easily,
twittering higher and faster as we both flew
into the fresh air of evening.
Published in Orbis
S.C. Flynn 